Oh these? My orbies? My massive fucking prognosticators? My super stuffed up scryers? My honker donker divination doinkies? My fucking future-stretching butterly-wing-flapping, probability-welling hex mounds?? Do you mean these super-augured goddamn mother-fortuned ORBS????
Be careful. If you break, nothing, not even horses or men, will be able to put the shell back together. If that happens, we'll have to raise yet another chick here. Fem-farming's tough work ya know!